Knitted Love
by Oboeist3
Summary: My submission for the AmeCan Secret Santa on Tumblr. Basically it's about dorks making scarfs. Supper fluffy all around. Please R&R and DFTBA!


It was snowing in Canada, a regular occurrence, on the day that Alfred decided to visit his brother, without telling him of course. It was that soft, powdery kind of snow, the one that really sucks for making snowballs and barely even crunched under your boots as it stuck to any available clothing item exposed to it. It was the sort of snow that fell lazily, like in all of those Christmas specials on TV. Not that the American noticed this. No he plodded from his beefed up black truck towards Matthew's humble cabin, (he lived in the middle of nowhere!), as fast as conceivably possible. His hands were shoved into his pockets deeply and his head bowed against the wind, and his footsteps were more like shuffling in the ankle deep snow.

"Man Mattie, you better appreciate this." He grumbled to himself, shivering under his bomber jacket. He was ill-prepared for this weather, as he'd come here on a whim, and he was never much of a lover of snow anyway. Indeed, if hibernation was an option for nations, he would readily take it, venturing out only for food, video games and Netflix, but no. He has 'responsibilities.' Lame.

By the time he reached the porch of the wooden house his nose felt tingly and he was shaking like a leaf, shifting back and forth on his feet and breathing into his hands to keep them warm. "Come on, come on!" he muttered as he knocked on the door, wanting nothing more than to kick it down to get to the heat. He was seriously contemplating doing so after a few moments, stepping back a bit to build up speed, but then the door was opened by none other than its owner, cocoa mug in hand and looking at him with puzzlement.

"Alfred? What are you doing out here?" he questioned, but Alfred wasn't listening as he barrelled past to get inside, shutting the door behind him. "Ah. Warmth." He breathed out happily, just standing in the warmth for a moment before wiping off his snowflake splattered glasses on his jacket.

"I came to visit you, bro!" he answered with a toothy grin, his endearing and annoying enthusiasm returned to him.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting company."

"Nah dude, that's the point! It's a surprise!"

The Northern nation just blinked at him at that, though he did tend to do these every couple of years, he was never prepared for him, and often his visit consisted to nothing more than him watching TV and eating his food. Then again, it was kind of nice to have someone to spend time with, other than his bear.

"Alright. But I'm afraid you've come at an inopportune time. I have nothing here for you to do. The TV's out and the flurry out there is icing up the roads rather fast." he he was stuck with a bored Alfred, a practical recipe for disaster.

"Don't worry! I'll find something to do. I'm the hero after all!" he said with an abridged version of his typical laugh.

"If you say so..." he said with a shrug. After all, it wasn't his fault any of this happened. He just showed up at the wrong time of year, when the electricity came out in weak spats and his days seemed more suited to the twentieth than the twenty-first century. "There's more cocoa in the kitchen if you'd like." he said, indicating the door down the hall.

"Thanks Mattie, you're the best!" he exclaimed, looking quite happy about that fact, and Matthew felt the corners of his lips tug upwards. Alfred could be a pain sure, but he was his brother, and the clumsy American did love and care about him. A bit too much sometimes, but he meant well.

However, not ten minutes had passed until Alfred, now equipped with a similarly warm drink, was back to his annoying self.

"Mattieeeee. I'm booooored." he groaned, sitting on the couch next to him, legs kicked over the back and staring at the ceiling.

"You are the one who said you'd find something to do." he stated logically, not looking up from the mess of yarn and needles that he was attempting to make into a scarf. He wasn't having much luck.

"But bro! I expected you to have /something/!" he exclaimed melodramatically, looking up at him with an expression of flabbergastion. Matthew didn't bother responding this time, and he huffed, swinging his legs back and forth and humming.

"Merde." mumbled the Canadian, as the stitches slipped off his needles for the billionth time that day. He was honestly quite tempted to stab someone with the needles instead of using them for their intended purpose at this point, that edge of frustration just on the brink of violence.

"Having troubles?" asked Alfred, looking over at him and tilting his head, and Matthew wondered slightly how that didn't make him dizzy. "Dude, that part is the easiest one." he said, swinging himself back upright and moving closer to him. "See, ya just wrap it around with one hand and hold it in place with this one." he said, taking the needles from his hand and doing so, leaving him with ten evenly space stitches on his needles. The Canadian just looked at him in shock as he took them back.

"You knit?"

"What? No. Well...I just picked it up from Iggy, you know? He's more into embroidering and stuff though. Not really my cup of coffee."

"The expression is cup of tea you know."

"So?"

Matthew just sighed and returned to the task at hand, trying to copy his method of keeping them on there, and he had to admit it was more successful than before.

"You can join me if you'd like." he offered, nodding to his disorganized pile of yarn accumulated over the years. "Knitting is supposedly very relaxing." he volunteered, though a scowl set on his face as he yet again messed up. Yes, supposedly.

"I guess, since there's nothing else to do..." he said begrudgingly, placing down his empty drink and picking up the spare needles. "Wonder if I can make the Stars and Stripes on this." he puzzled, searching out the necessary colors in the heap.

The next few hours or so was quiet, the only sounds the shuffling of the two North American brothers and the wind rattling out the window. Matthew had somehow managed to get together a piece of cloth that at least somewhat resembled a scarf, though the stitches were crooked and weak in places. Alfred on the other hand, was much more successful.

"Is that a bald eagle on your scarf?" asked Matthew in awe, looking down at his own pisspoor attempt at stripes.

"Yep!" he said brightly, grinning. "You were right bro, this really is relaxing. Check it out!" he said, holding it up to it's full length, showing an American flag accurate down to the number of red and white stripes with a bald eagle seemingly in flight above it. "Had to guess a bit with the pattern but I think it turned out ok, right?" he said, oblivious to the Canadian's own disappointment in his own work.

"Yes Al, it turned out wonderfully. It really looks very pretty. You truly inherited Arthur's skills." he said genuinely, after all it was rather beautiful.

"Ah, thanks! Let me see yours now! What cool thing did you do?" he questioned, and Matthew blushed.

"O-Oh, nothing much. Just stripes, eh?" he said, trying to hide the atrocity in his lap, but Al was having none of it, snatching it up.

"Cool man, it's nice. Simple!" he said after a moment of contemplation, running the fabric over his fingers, and he didn't seem to be lying. "Hey, how about we switch? An early Christmas gift exchange or something." he said, throwing the patterned scarf at him, wrapping his own around his neck.

"Oh no, I could never take such a masterpiece away from you." he said shaking his head, but of course, Alfred was stubborn, he insisted, and Matthew was too easy to give in. I mean, he should be honored he even considered his scrap an equal. So he thanked him and got up to start working on dinner, as the sun was dipping low on the horizon.

Alfred didn't stay much longer, after eating a large dinner he was out on the roads and back on his way home again, departing with his usual grin+laugh combo and saying he should visit at Christmas, without giving him much other choice. That was Alfred though.

The days started back in their normal flow, but whenever he had to leave to chop firewood or go to the city, he'd smile as he wrapped a very American scarf around his neck and thought of his similarly American brother and how he loved him. Little did he know that whenever Alfred left his winter isolation in the city, he'd do the same, thinking of a quiet Canadian through the awkward threads.


End file.
